It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles
by PenPatronus
Summary: When Stiles wishes he'd never been born, the spirit of his mother shows him what Beacon Hills would be like without him. Friendship, family, hurt / comfort. Pre-Sterek. AU of "Master Plan."
1. Gerard's Prey

**Summary:** When Stiles wishes he'd never been born, the spirit of his mother shows him what Beacon Hills would be like without him. Friendship, family, hurt / comfort. Pre-Sterek. AU of "Master Plan."

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 1 of 8

**Gerard's Prey**

PenPatronus

Blood filled Stiles' mouth. He spit a cupful onto the concrete and then coughed the remaining drops out. Gerard towered above him, wincing at his right fist. "I think I bruised a knuckle on your cheekbone," he said. He flexed and stretched his fingers.

Stiles summoned all of his sarcasm. "Sorry to hear that," he whispered. "Guess we'll have to take a rain check on the torture."

An amused smile crawled across Gerard's pale face. "You think this is torture? This is a rug burn compared to what I am going to do to your friends." Gerard drove his boot into Stiles' stomach and forced the teen to roll onto his back. Behind them, Erica and Boyd struggled in their electrified bonds.

"They won't come." Stiles hugged his gut through his lacrosse jersey and gasped for breath. "Sorry, dude… but you kidnapped… the expendable one."

Gerard walked in a circle around Stiles – a vulture eyeing its prey. "Scott and Derek will come for you – their friend, the innocent human – and I will make them wish they'd never been born." He turned off the basement light and started to climb the stairs. "You won't be able to do a damn thing to help them. They're going to die because of you, Stiles." Gerard slammed the door shut.

"Because of me…" Stiles whispered aloud, only half conscious that the werewolves nearby could hear him. He coughed out the last of the blood in his throat and started to doze off into a pain-dense sleep. "Wish _I'd_ never been born…" he muttered right before he fell asleep. "Then everyone would be better off…"

**To Be Continued**


	2. It's a Glad World

**Summary:** When Stiles wishes he'd never been born, the spirit of his mother shows him what Beacon Hills would be like without him. Friendship, family, hurt / comfort. Pre-Sterek. AU of "Master Plan."

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 2 of 8

**It's a Glad World**

PenPatronus

Stiles smelled baby powder and jasmine. He smiled at the dozen memories summoned by the smell: his mother rubbing sun block on his shoulders, his father teaching him to play lacrosse, their whole family hiking to the highest point in the county where Stiles felt like he was on top of the world. He almost felt his father's hand on his shoulder and his mother's on his cheek. That was how she greeted him every morning. She'd say his name and stroke his cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a layer of jasmine hand lotion. For months after she died, he went into a panic attack every time he smelled that lotion.

"Stiles."

Something kissed his cheek. A knuckle, perhaps. Warm skin touched his.

"Stiles, sweetheart, wake up."

He recognized her voice and realized, with a start, that it was coming into his ear instead of out of his memory. Stiles frowned. He told himself that he was dreaming, and then he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He still lay on the Argents' basement floor. He still wore his bloodied uniform. He still tasted blood in his mouth. And she was there.

His mother.

"Stiles."

He stared up at her without blinking – terrified that she would disappear if he looked away. When last he saw her she'd been pale, thin, weak. He remembered her last words to him: "This death isn't happening to me. It's happening to you, your father, everyone else who will be at my funeral…" At the time he was eight-years-old and didn't understand what she meant or why she never got out of bed. He didn't understand what death meant.

He still didn't. Not really.

Stiles licked his lips and risked disturbing the moment. "Mom?" he whispered.

Lysa Stilinski wore the white nightgown she'd died in. Her cheekbones, brown hair and eyes matched Stiles' exactly. She smiled at her son. There were tears in her eyes. "Hello, Stiles."

"I don't understand…" He didn't know what else to say.

"Get up." She held her hand out, palm up, inviting.

"Why? The door is locked. I can't get out."

"Get up, Stiles. This is important."

His throat was dry. He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. She was shorter than he remembered but, then again, he was taller. The jasmine went across his face like a breeze. "I don't understand," he repeated. "Why are you here?"

"I heard you say that you wish you'd never been born."

"I…" Stiles' lower lip quivered. "Mom, my friends…"

Her smile was golden but her eyes were serious. "Stiles, I'm here to show you that the world is glad that you were born."

"How?" he whispered.

Again, she held out her hand and, again, he took it. The basement disappeared.

**To Be Continued**


	3. Danny

**Summary:** When Stiles wishes he'd never been born, the spirit of his mother shows him what Beacon Hills would be like without him. Friendship, family, hurt / comfort. Pre-Sterek. AU of "Master Plan."

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 3 of 8

**Danny**

PenPatronus

A red, white and blue balloon wrestled with a tree branch, then floated off beyond the Beacon Hills middle school. Stiles and Lysa stood on a sidewalk parallel to a lacrosse field. "I've been here before," he said. After watching the balloon he examined a couple walking a dog across the street. "I've been _here_ before. This place on this day." He glanced at the field, then at a swing set in the distance. "I walked through here after practice."

"That's right," his mother said. She led him toward the swing set. "You were twelve years old. You were even skinnier than you are now."

Stiles chuckled. "You've been watching me my whole life, haven't you."

"Of course I have." She squeezed his hand harder. "Do you remember what happened today? What happened next?"

Stiles frowned and slowed down their stride. "I heard something – people – guys, yelling. I was scared and I started to run away but then I saw…" Stiles pulled his mother past the swing set and peeked out from behind a tree. "…then I saw them."

Three boys stood in the woods a few yards away. A fourth lay on his side in the dirt, hugging his head with his arms and screaming – yelling – for them to stop. He was twelve, he was crying, and he was bleeding.

It was Danny.

"Freak!" one boy yelled.

"Fag!" shouted the other.

Tears peeked out of Stiles' eyes. "I remember this," he whispered. "I pulled those guys off of Danny. One hit me – right in the face – and I thought they were going to beat me up, too. But then they recognized me. They knew that my dad was the sheriff. They took off running and left us alone."

"Yes." Lysa wrapped her arm across her son's shoulders. "That was very brave of you. You stood up to three bigger, stronger boys to help your friend. You were heroic, Stiles."

The beating continued. No younger Stiles emerged to stop it. "I have to help him." Stiles tried to walk out from under her grip but she held on tight. "Mom – let me go, I have to help!"

"Stiles," she whispered, leaning in close to his cheek, "You have to see. This is what would've happened if you hadn't been here to save Danny."

It was unbearable to watch. The three boys didn't let up, even when Danny was kicked in the head and face so many times that he was knocked unconscious. They retreated only when the sight of so much blood scared them. They ran – disappeared – leaving Danny broken in the dirt. Stiles turned away. He couldn't watch anymore.

"If you'd never been born, Stiles," his mother said, "Danny would be blind."

**To Be Continued**


	4. Lydia and Jackson

**Summary:** When Stiles wishes he'd never been born, the spirit of his mother shows him what Beacon Hills would be like without him. Friendship, family, hurt / comfort. Pre-Sterek. AU of "Master Plan."

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 4 of 8

**Lydia and Jackson**

PenPatronus

Stiles sat down on the swing and kicked the dirt beneath him. "I didn't say that I wish I'd never been born because of Danny," Stiles explained, "I said that because… because of me, Gerard is going to catch Scott and Derek. He's going to kill them, Mom."

"I know." Lysa's smile darkened a degree. "I know how important they are to you, Stiles. And you're important to them, and to your other friends."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah. My other friends – and who would that be? Scott's my best friend, yeah, but honestly, no one else would notice if I was gone."

"That's not true." Lysa sat down on the swing on his left. "Look behind you."

Lights suddenly burst from above and behind Stiles and his shadow elongated into the trees. He pivoted in his seat and looked over his shoulder. He saw the lacrosse field – the varsity one now, not the middle school version. It was empty except for a lone figure standing in the center. Stiles' eyes twitched and narrowed. A second human-shaped shadow walked onto the field and as he got closer, Stiles' memory was triggered by fear. "No…"

Lysa said nothing.

"Lydia!" Stiles jumped to his feet and yelled again, "Lydia, run!"

"She can't hear you," his mother said. More fog rolled onto the scene.

Stiles didn't see Peter attack and kill the girl he loved but, somehow, he felt it. He looked down at his jersey and expected to see more blood on it. "She would've died that night?" he whispered.

"Your love for her softened Peter's heart enough to keep him from killing her."

"If I'd gotten there sooner, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"She survived, Stiles. Thanks to you. If you'd never been born, Lydia would've died right then, right there."

Stiles collapsed back into the swing and put his face in his hands. "Maybe I saved her, but I didn't _get_ her. She loves Jackson, not me."

"If you'd never been born, Lydia never would have dated Jackson."

Stiles looked up. "What? What do I have to do with their relationship?"

Lysa leaned back in the swing and pushed off the ground with her bare feet. "Who is Jackson's best friend?"

"Danny. Well, he's the closest thing. Jackson doesn't really understand friendship… Wait, this has to do with Danny?"

Lysa pumped her legs, slowly, and rose off the ground. "Jackson got into sports because of Danny. Did you know that?"

Stiles watched her swing, then started to kick his own legs. "No. No, I didn't."

"He was a clumsy kid. Unconfident. And when he found out about his parents, when he found out that he was adopted, Jackson withdrew from everything: family, friends, school… Danny encouraged him to come out of his shell. He taught him to deal with his stress through lacrosse and swimming. Jackson excelled at sports and that distracted him from the pain of losing his parents."

"But Danny couldn't do all of that if he wasn't playing himself," Stiles realized, "if he was blind then he couldn't play." Stiles pumped his legs harder until he swung as high as his mom.

Lysa smiled at him with every tooth. "That's three lives drastically changed, Stiles, by yours."

**To Be Continued**


	5. Scott and Allison

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 5 of 8

**Scott and Allison**

PenPatronus

Stiles found himself walking through a familiar woods. It was brisk and dark save for the nearly full moon above. His mother had his hand. The crunch of leaves beneath their feet was muffled by recent rain. Stiles did the first thing he always did when he went to the woods – he breathed deeply. The air seemed fresher. The world seemed clearer. Time became irrelevant.

"Let me guess," he said, "in this round you'll show me taking that cat to the animal shelter. The black one I found in my tree house."

She smiled and Stiles saw his own smile mirrored in hers. "Good, Stiles, now you're starting to see what a difference you make. But no, not a cat. This story is about you rescuing a lost dog."

Stiles' brow wrinkled. "I never found a dog."

"How about a wolf?"

Stiles tripped over a downed branch. "Is this about Scott? 'Cuz he's a bad example. He'd definitely be better off without me. There's no one on this earth I've hurt more than him." Lysa froze. She tightened her grip on his hand and pressed it against her own heart. Stiles continued to talk before she could ask what he meant. "You know why my best friend is a werewolf? Because of me. It's my fault. I dragged him out to the woods the night he got bit. If I wasn't around he would've stayed home, safe."

"It would surprise you, then, to know that Scott would've gotten bit that night whether you existed or not?"

'Surprise' appeared on Stiles' face. "How? Why?"

They began to walk again. "Stiles, what did you do when Scott's parents got divorced?" His mother's voice was like velvet against his ears.

"I… He… Scott was really broken up about it. I spent the night at his house a lot. For weeks, actually. Sometimes we just sat there. Sometimes he cried… Hell, sometimes we both did…"

"You were there for him."

"I guess so, yeah." Lysa spread her hands out in front of her as if to say, "See?" "What does that have to do with the night he got bit?" Stiles asked.

Suddenly smoke wafted over them. Stiles blinked and saw someone standing with his back facing them in front of a barrel of smoking garbage. The hair was longer and the posture was crooked, but Stiles recognized him. "Scott?" He held up his hand before his mother could speak. "I know, I know, he can't hear me. What's he doing here?"

"This is where he meets his Dealer."

Stiles' eyebrows bounded up. "I take it you're not talking about someone who deals out cards for a poker game…"

The fire made Lysa's eyes glow. "Unfortunately, no."

Stiles wanted to run to his friend, to take him by the lapels and tell him to get his life together. But somehow watching his thin, pale best friend trembling in the warm air was as difficult as watching Danny get beat up. He turned away. Stiles heard a wolf howl. A second later it happened again, closer to Scott. Scott who didn't notice that anything was amiss. Scott who was about to get bit by Peter Hale.

"Ok," Stiles said to his mother, surprised at how meek his voice sounded, "so without me Scott would've, well, ruined his life. But he didn't lose it. Peter didn't kill him, right?"

"No…" Lysa offered a hundred apologies with one look. "No, but Allison did."

"_What_?"

"Without you, Scott imploded after his parents' divorce. He quit lacrosse, quit school, got into drugs. He never met Allison. Allison never met him. Her love for him never defined her opinion about werewolves. Kate Argent taught her well – taught her to kill without mercy and, eventually, she killed Scott."

Stiles shut his eyes and left them shut as he wallowed in stunned silence.

"That's five lives, for the record," Lysa said, "six if you count the cat in your tree house."

"Ok, I get it. I saved five lives, my life matters, yadda yadda yadda. Is this over now?"

"No, Stiles. You don't quite understand yet. Mentally you do but you don't believe it here." Lysa touched his heart with the tip of her forefinger. "And no, we're not done. There's one more."

Stiles thought about it for a moment, and then whispered, "Derek?"

Lysa nodded.

"Ok… He drowns in a pool. I don't want to see that."

"No, Stiles. This is about the first time you and Derek met."

**To Be Continued**


	6. Derek and Laura

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 6 of 8

**Derek and Laura**

PenPatronus

It was daytime, and the forest was six years younger. Stiles watched his 10-year-old self measure a log. Satisfied, young Stiles pocketed the tape measure and rolled the log over with his foot. It decapitated mushrooms and sent whole flocks of ants and centipedes scurrying. He tried to lift it but an overgrowth of moss and vines sealed it to the forest floor. Lysa shook her head at the scene and muttered, "I can't believe your father thought he could cut your hair himself."

The older Stiles chuckled and ran his hands over his scalp. "It was always higher on the sides. Made me look like Wolverine." Young Stiles struggled with the vines, got frustrated and kicked it repeatedly. "I don't remember this, Mom."

"Just watch," she assured him. "…There." She pointed at young Stiles who had frozen with his eyes staring at a large hollow log ten yards away. Two pairs of eyes blinked out of that log: wide dark ones and smaller, paler ones hovering in tears. The young Stiles squinted, stepped forward to examine the strange people closer, and waved at them. The girl – older and slimmer than the boy – raised her finger perpendicular to her lips and said, "Shhh!"

"Who…" Young Stiles started to say, but a snapping twig caught his attention. He pivoted and saw a group of men and one woman jogging through the woods. They wore thick boots and pants, jackets that were either black or camouflage, and carried guns and crossbows. Some of them hid their weapons when they spotted the young boy. The girl didn't, though. She separated from the four men and strutted over with a rifle on her shoulder. She was beautiful. Young Stiles was hypnotized by her wide smile.

The older Stiles cringed at the sight. "Oh my God," he whispered, "that's Kate Argent."

"Hey, cutie," the teenage Kate said to the boy. "Are you having some fun out here in the woods?"

Young Stiles nodded reluctantly. "I'm building a tree house."

"Oh, that's nice," Kate said and even at 10 years of age, Stiles sensed her insincerity. "Can I ask you something? We're trying to find a couple friends of ours, a boy and a girl about my age. They're brother and sister so they have the same dark hair. The boy is wearing a black shirt and jeans and she has on a sweater. I don't suppose you've seen them here, have you?"

Stiles glanced at the people hiding in the log but then immediately returned his gaze to Kate before she realized he was staring. He swallowed and pointed at her gun. "Are you guys going hunting or something?"

Kate's smile faltered a tad bit – barely noticeable. "Yes – Deer, um, we're looking for deer."

"Are you allowed to shoot deer in Beacon Hills?"

"What?" Kate's face flushed and she put her hands on her hips. "Look, kid, have you seen our friends or not? We're in a hurry."

Stiles glanced again. The eyes in the log begged him. They looked like a puppies startled by thunder.

"No," the young Stiles suddenly said. "No I… I don't see them now but, I mean I did see them. Two people running. They went that way." Stiles pointed towards the west, at a trail that led to one of the Beacon Hills cemeteries. "They went that way."

Kate bent her knees and smiled even bigger. "Great – thanks, kid. Come on, guys!" She waved the men forward and the group disappeared down the path. Young Stiles let out a long, shaky breath and turned to the log. The eyes were gone but, a moment later, two people cautiously stood up from their hollow hiding place. It was definitely the brother and sister the girl had talked about. Both looked exhausted, scared. The girl had tracks down her cheeks from her tears. She nodded at him – it was a thank you – then started to jog east, the opposite direction of the hunters.

The boy hesitated. He looked west to make sure that Kate and the others were gone, then he approached the young Stiles.

"I can't believe I forgot about this," the older Stiles whispered to his mother. "This was the first time I saw Derek. And that was his sister, Laura. This was right after the fire at the Hale house – the next day!"

Derek was almost twice as tall as young Stiles. He towered over the boy like a bully. But then he knelt down in front of Stiles and took out a pocket knife. Without saying a word he cut the vines holding down the log that the boy wanted for his tree house. When it was free he lifted it and placed it in Stiles' arms gently, like he was handing off a newborn baby.

And then he nodded at Stiles, and took off into the woods after his sister.

"I wonder if he remembers," older Stiles whispered. "He never mentioned it. I wonder if he recognized me."

Lysa put her hand on his shoulder. "You can ask him soon. When he rescues you from Gerard. Are you ready?"

Stiles faced her. "For what?"

"To go back." She touched his heart again. "I think you are." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Stiles."

"I love you, too." Stiles didn't bother to wipe away the tears in his eyes. "One last thing, Mom – "

She cupped his cheeks with her hands. "It wasn't your fault, Stiles. What happened to me wasn't your fault. You didn't kill me."

Lysa said one last "I love you," and disappeared.

**To Be Continued**


	7. Gerard's Victory

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 7 of 8

**Gerard's Victory**

PenPatronus

The basement floor was moving. This seemed odd to Stiles but, then again, what wasn't odd in Beacon Hills these days?

Opening his eyes was like prying open a coconut. A red snowflake drifted past his nose – a scab, he realized. Gross. He'd been asleep long enough for his blood to clot. How long that took he couldn't be sure.

It was too bright for a basement. Flashbulb bright. Splotches of color waltzed across his eyes. When the fog dissipated he saw two faces staring at him: Gerard glared from a metal bench across from him and Scott blinked up from where he lay spread-eagled on the floor. Stiles knew instantly that Scott had been paralyzed by the Kanima. The muscles around his face and jaw worked like mad but the rest of his body didn't even twitch. A familiar jostling revealed that they were in a vehicle, travelling fast.

"Hey, Scott," Stiles whispered hoarsely.

"Hey, Stiles."

"Come to rescue me?"

"Yep."

"Good job."

"Smart ass." Scott's brief smile deflated as he studied Stiles. "You look like hell, dude. You breathing ok?"

"Ribs hurt. Cracked. Feel… dizzy. I talked to my mom."

"Ok, so, head trauma, too." Scott's throat worked. "I don't care if he's Allison's father, I'm going to kill Chris Argent for this."

"Gerard beat me up, actually."

Scott's eyebrows bounced.

"Shut up, dude," Stiles chided, "that old man is stronger than he looks."

"And you wolves are as dumb as you look," said Gerard. He stood and planted one foot on Scott's chest. He held a black handgun pointed at Stiles. "You fell right into my trap. It's remarkable you're not extinct."

"Was Erica and Boyd escaping part of your plan?" Scott asked.

Gerard kicked the werewolf in the head and Stiles resisted the temptation to say, "Told you so!" when Scott grunted in pain. Gerard turned to Stiles and said, "In case you're curious, I stole this van from your dad's station – thanks for the idea, very effective with Jackson – and we're on our way to the Argent house in Washington State. And after I have you two secure, I'll be back for Derek and his pack."

Scott's nostrils flared. "Assuming Derek even lets you leave the county with us."

"Jackson will keep him busy long enough."

"You kidnapped _Stiles_, Gerard. Derek is pissed." Suddenly something heavy landed on the roof of the van. Scott didn't look surprised. "_R__eally_ pissed."

Tires squealed. Stiles rolled off the seat and bounced off Scott as the entire van rocked. Gerard shrieked in rage and took out a walkie-talkie. Before he could speak, the van came to a sudden stop. All three men rolled across the floor.

Stiles slammed into the wall. Fireworks burst across his eyes, then dragged him into darkness.

Before he passed out he heard the gun go off.

**To Be Concluded**


	8. Stiles & Derek

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for reading and especially for reviewing! If you like this story, check out my other "Teen Wolf" fic, "Heart of the Pack."

**Summary:** When Stiles wishes he'd never been born, the spirit of his mother shows him what Beacon Hills would be like without him. Friendship, family, hurt / comfort. Pre-Sterek. AU of "Master Plan."

**It's a Wonderful Life, Stiles**

Ch 8 of 8

**Stiles and Derek**

PenPatronus

Stiles woke up in the same panic he fell asleep in. He sat up, and instantly regretted moving at all. Nausea swam in his stomach and streaks of light crisscrossed his vision. All at once he felt every wound Gerard inflicted: the bruises on his face, the cut in his lip, the scratches down his neck, welts on his gut, bumps on his arms and gashes on his legs. Stiles started to fall back when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him. He blinked but all he saw was a ceiling of dusty rafters behind someone's shoulder. With a start he realized that he was in the station, lying on a picnic table outside of an old bus. Faces appeared in the bus windows and Stiles recognized Erica and Allison. Boyd and Isaac peeked out of the door. But where was…

"Scott?" Stiles mumbled.

"He's fine. Sleeping," a gruff voice answered. "Stop struggling, dumbass, you'll rip your stitches."

"_**Derek**_."

Obeying instinct, not thought, Stiles clung to Derek and held on tight. He buried his face in the older man's shoulder and stayed there until his breathing settled down. At first Derek remained frozen but when the others retreated back into the bus and out of sight, he squeezed back. "Lie down," Derek instructed while he rubbed small circles into Stiles' back. "Relax, Stiles, you're safe."

Stiles didn't fight Derek when he slowly lowered him back onto a pillow. "What the hell happened?" Stiles whispered. When he lay flat and got a good look at Derek, he almost popped back up again. "_What the hell happened to you_?"

Derek zipped up his jacket to hide his bloody t-shirt. "I've been shot before." He shrugged and ducked his face to hide his pale cheeks. After rummaging through a medical kit he began cutting long strips of bandages. "We stopped the truck. Got you out. Brought you here."

Stiles rolled his eyes at the lack of details. "Gerard?"

Derek stared down at his right hand and slowly flexed it. "I didn't kill him. Jackson will be sore in the morning."

"Good," Stiles chuckled. He held still while Derek cleaned and bandaged a particularly deep cut in his right calf. "Thanks," Stiles mumbled groggily.

"I'm not good at this. Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"No, Derek, I mean thanks for rescuing me."

The Alpha's dark eyes met Stiles' brown ones. "Yeah, well, I owed you one. I would've drowned in that pool without you."

Stiles snorted, and then sighed. "Hey, listen, do you remember the first time we met? You know, after the fire, in the forest with Laura. Do you remember that?"

Derek kept his eyes fixed on the bruise he was applying ice to. "When Kate was trying to finish us off? Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing, really. I just forgot about it until recently." Stiles winced when the ice penetrated the layers of his skin.

The two men sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes until Derek said, "I think about that almost every day."

Stiles lifted his head to see Derek better. "You do?" Derek nodded and continued to avoid his gaze. "Well, that explains why you put up with me."

The corner of Derek's mouth flexed into a tiny smile. "I don't 'put up with' you, Stiles. And I didn't rescue you because you saved my life."

"Then why? Why give a crap about me - I'm not part of your pack."

"Yes, you are!" Derek's face flushed red. "You may not be a werewolf but that doesn't mean you're not important to me!" He blinked, surprised to hear his own words. "Stiles, I'm not good at these kinds of conversations." Derek wrapped his hand gently around Stiles' leg and, to Stiles' surprise, kept it there. "I'll always come for you, no matter what, ok? I swear I'll _always_ find you. Can we just leave it at that… for now?"

Stiles nodded. "Ok." He settled back down into the makeshift bed, wondering if he would dream about his mother again. "Thanks again, Sour-wolf."

**The End**


End file.
